


he shouldn't have known

by fictionalrobin



Series: bulimic!Magnus [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bulimia, Depression, Eating Disorders, Heavy Angst, Hurt Magnus Bane, Insecurity, M/M, Magnus Bane's past, Sad Magnus Bane, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, seriously this is very graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 02:23:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13113966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalrobin/pseuds/fictionalrobin
Summary: this is the original concept for chapter 3 of He Shouldn't Have Seen, I decided to cut it out since it felt out of place and melodramatic, so I'm posting it separately instead.-(trigger warning: GRAPHIC descriptions of eating disorders, suicidal thoughts, low self-esteem, mentions of hearing voices, mentions of split personalities, as well as minor child abuse (oh golly this i gonna be fun))





	he shouldn't have known

**Author's Note:**

> this is also me announcing that I won't be posting for a while, partly because I kinda hate my writing rn, and partly because I'm working on a BIG thing, that I haven't tried before, so keep your bananas peeled for that.

He couldn't remember when it first began.

When the green monster had come. When it'd started to leave a bitter taste in the back of his throat after every meal.

Growing up he was a happy child. His mother loved him, his step father as well, and he returned that love with all of his little heart. It was positive memories that mostly ran through his thoughts, when he thought of childhood. Sunshine, tall grass, and the smell of his mothers hair. Happiness. Love. Warmth.

Oh how naive he'd been. 

When his parents found out what he was, it was like someone flipped a switch, and everything turned inside out and upside down. The smiles turned into frowns, The hugs into harsh punches and his mothers once glowing eyes, into small hard pieces of shattered glass, so similar to the liquor bottles littering the floor. It was around this time he stopped eating. Not out of choice, his parents simply refused to feed him. 

But it felt so goo, not eating. 

It was like the tiny knot in the back of his hollow stomach, took away the rest of the pain. Like a thin sheat of invisible cotton, wrapped around him, turning him numb to the rest of the world. Maybe that's when it started. 

In his world of pain, emotional and physical, the hunger turned into a scarily comforting friend. A friend, unlike any other. A friend he could always count on to be there. A friend who listened and never left. Unlike the others. 

But even this friend eventually turned against him. 

When his mother finally killed herself, after months of suffering, and he killed his step father, he was forced to run away. Run away and hide where no one would find him. But unfortunately his only option was the excact opposite. His childhood home had been like an isolated bubble. A tiny universe in it's own. But now that the bubble was popped, he had to face the rest of the world, the loud and fast world, full of rules and system he didn't know, in a thousand languages he didn't understand. It was scary. Probably the scariest thing he'd ever experienced.

But it got better. It got less scary. 

He was rescued by the silent brothers.

And slowly, a new ground, one that wasn't constantly shifting and flipping upside down, formed for his feet to land on. A ground for him to sprout his roots in, and secure himself to, so he didn't fly away again. He turned to his friend, the one who'd been with him and comforted him for years now and he asked it to leave. He didn't need it anymore

But no, the friend replied. 

So maybe it was then it began. All he knew was, that now his friend became a monster, more gruesome than any demon he'd ever encountered since. A monster which resided in his stomach and head, like a green, slimy parasite, told him things, horrible things, no matter what he did.

 _Y_ _ou_ _don't_ _deserve_ _that_ it both whispered and yelled at the same time, as he ate his dinner.

 _Y_ _ou're_ _not_ _good_ _enough_ it said in the same whisper-yell double voice as he got out of bed in the morning.

 _D_ _ie_ it hissed when he looked in the mirror. 

He tried to ignore it. Tried to tell it to go away. And eventually he turned to the only comfort he'd ever known. The hunger. 

But strangely enough, it didn't help him. Didn't numb him, the way it used to. Quite the opposite actually. It ripped at his muscles now. Scratched at his bones and tore intestines. He felt betrayed. The monster had told him, that if he just did as it said, if he stopped eating, he would feel better. But he didn't. He didn't. It was all wrong. 

Eating made him feel terrible.

Starving as well.

It was like an infinite tug a war inside him. One that tore him apart, as if he was the rope, and at one point he actually thought he was about to split in half. About to separate into two separate entities, two Magnuses. He was half disappointed when it didn't happen. He'd prepared a little speech, for himself to read for the new Magnus, when they separated. He'd spend weeks on it and had sort of gotten used to the idea of not being alone in his head. Actually kind of looked forward to it.

That was until he made a brilliant discovery. He overheard an older boy, talking to his younger friends about drinking. 

He explained how, it doesn't matter how much you drink, you can always just throw it up, and then there's room for more. It was really an amazing concept, and one that could easily be applied to food as well. He decided to test out his theory that day.

He ate all he wanted to, ignoring how the voices yelled at him. He ate until he couldn't bear their screams anymore and ran for the bathroom. As soon as he stuck two fingers down his throat, all the voices quieted in awe, as he coughed up his lunch, smiling at the silence. He felt proud. He knew how to control the monster now.

The next couple of weeks were spend in a weird euphoric trance, going to the bathroom and vomiting after every meal with a big grin on his face. Not that it wasn't obvious to others, though. It wasn't long till his day was filled with questions and concerned glances. 

He didn't understand why they were so worried. He was great. Better than ever, the voices were so pleased, and so quite. And he looked great. Each month a new row of ribs was visible, and each month he felt more and more confident. 

That was until his hair started falling out. He'd been in the middle of reading a book, absentminded running his hands through his hair, when a reasonable chunk came out with his fingers. His heart jumped into his throat, and he sprinted for the bathroom, where he discovered a huge bald spot behind his left ear. 

After that he began styling his hair to cover up the bald spots. And it wasn't just the hair. 

After a while he noticed his nose and cheeks puffing up. He wore make up. Then his eyes turned red and watery, and his skin a pale and dry texture. He wore more make up. He desperately tried to hide the consequences of his actions, because they were so good for him. They had so many benefits, he was so happy. 

He fainted in class that day.

The nurse was called, and he woke up in the infirmary. They thought it was a fit or a stroke of some kind. But little after little, they pieced together the puzzle.

They dragged him to a hospital that night. He was kicking and screaming the entire time. Screaming that he was fine. Screaming for them to please stop. 

His schedule, plan, methods, his entire life. They just ruined it all. Picked him to pieces like it was nothing, like his life wasn't depending on it. They didn't care at all, not even when he was screaming, as they forced him to eat. They told him it was for his own best. 

_Liars_

If it was him or the voices, he wasn't sure of. It didn't matter anymore. Things had stopped mattering after a while. 

But to everyone's suprise, it got better. Just a little bit. Like a stripe of sunlight falling through a curtain into a dark, abandoned house. Not truely bright, but still enough. Enough for him to get out of the hospital. 

But not enough for it to stop. It was still there. Hiding in the walls and creeping through the shadows like a cockroach. Looking for a place to strike, and multiply.

But he controlled it. He managed to keep it down, mostly. Every now and then it would come back like a pale ghost of the past to haunt him, just like now. Only difference was, he didn't know how it'd come back. Maybe it was Valentine? Maybe it was...Alec? God no. Alec was undeniably one of the best things that ever happened to him. But what was it then? What had lead the monster to come out from the shadows and harass his thoughts? 

He didn't know.

**Author's Note:**

> im tired


End file.
